


Once A Week

by IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels



Series: A Gentle Release [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, But off camera, Dean Can't Cope, Dean Does Not Understand, Dean Has Issues, Dean accepts help, Dean finally starts to accept himself, Dean hooked up with a bar girl, Dean in Denial, Dean-Centric, Gen, Good lord finally, He doesnt feel like it was worth it though, Masochism, Mentions of Sex, Nonverbal Dean, Sam gets what he wants, Sam is the Voice of Reason, Sam thinks hes sneaky, The redundancies can stop now, non sexual kink, nonsexual kink, offscreen sex, sam is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:56:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels/pseuds/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels
Summary: Dean comes home from a hookup and is antsy. Sam helps, and more importantly gets it through his brother's thick head that what they do is not the end of the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure the fics must be getting redundant by now. But this is the last one in the foreseeable future where the message is "Sam tries to get his brother to accept his kink." I think. But I felt it was good since the boys always have to think about something a while before accepting a new concept. If you enjoyed, comment.

Dean should feel great. He just hooked up with a girl from a bar that even he could admit aloud was too hot for him. And then some. He should have been elated, jumping for joy, maybe. 

But here he was, annoyed and anxious. 

He didn't want to admit that what Sam did to him was the only way he felt relaxed. Calm. Whole. It was wrong. It was wrong to feel that way about getting hurt, and it was wrong to let Sam do that for him, especially. It was the black and white of his reality.

Protect Sam. Keep Baby running smoothly. Hunt things. Avoid getting hurt. Just like monsters were bad, Sam was his brother, and Baby was kept in mint.

It just made no sense. He had no right to feel so calm when Sam dug his fingers into the bruises. To feel like everything would be alright. It was gross, and wrong, and sick. 

But here he was, wanting it again. He drove to the motel Sam and he were staying in and slammed the door to Baby open and shut. The same treatment for the hotel door, if not worse. He flopped on the bed to add a flourish to his growing tantrum behavior.

"Bad date?" Sam asked, his expression etched a portrait of 'really, dude?'

"Shut up." Dean scowled, turning over on his stomach.

He could practically feel his brother shrug and keep searching on his laptop. He calmed down a bit, listening to the clicks of the track pad and the hum of skin on plastic. It was steady, a constant reminder that if nothing else, he had Sam.

Maybe that was part of the problem. That he couldnt not rely on Sam to help or at least understand his needs and wants. From pie, to sex, to whatever this filthy urge inside him is, Sam always at least tried to understand. The most damning thing is that he always did. He is willing to help.

Dean faded in and out of consciousness, light dozing here and there. He didn't sense anything wrong the first few passes, so he let himself continue. 

Then the bed shifted. He could sense it was Sam immediately, the large but familiar presence settling next to him felt right. He was too groggy to open an eye to watch him or ask what he wanted, but figured it would be clear soon enough.

A few moments of silence. Dean was nearly dozing again when the arm he always left extended toward Sam was lifted. He opened his eyes to see Sam guiding it toward his lap. 

"Don't worry about it, Dean. Just relax." Sam murmered. 

Dean watched him for a few moments, suspicious and groggy. Had he been fully awake, he'd have snatched his arm away. Or at least, thats what he likes to think as he watches Sam stroke the skin of his forearm gingerly with barely existent fingernails. It feels good. No one ever touches hunters with kindness. Dean practically resigns himself to enjoy it, seeing as he won't get many more chances of kind touches living the life he leads.

He closes his eyes again, and zeroes in on the feeling. Every 3 passes, Sam puts a bit more pressure on his arm. When it actually began to hurt, Dean couldn't recall. Maybe he'd fallen asleep again. He knew that his skin around Sam's original circuit is red and inflamed. Maybe even peeling a bit. He also knew that was why Sam had subtly moved himself off course.

He was drunk from the feeling, but it still nagged him. 

"You don't have to feel bad about this." Sam spoke suddenly.

Dean kept his eyes shut, and his jaw set of its own accord. He didn't want to talk about this.

"I know you're awake. And I know you carry a bunch of crap you don't have to. Like Dad and what he did. But if this is how you deal with things, it's not a problem. You trust me with this, and I'd never hurt you on accident." Sam sighed. 

Dean still didn't make any effort to talk. He didn't have the words right now. Couldn't string together any sentence about Chick flicks or some geeky joke about betting boned and hurt in the same night. He echoed Sam's sigh, before he opened his eyes.

And of course Sam was giving him puppy eyes. Dean considered rolling over to avoid the problem, but just frowned instead. It was always difficult hurting Sam. Even just his feelings. So he endured like the good older brother he hoped he was.

"Just let go of it. All the bad stuff, just for a little while. Everyone has guilty pleasures, and this is definitely safer than what most other people's or even other hunter's are. I'm fine with it. You said yourself it isn't about…you know. So we can do this as much or as little as you want." Sam pushed on. 

Dean just continued to stare at the ceiling, only glancing at Sam when he dared, stolen half seconds as his younger brother completely immersed himself in the task at hand. His hulking mass bent over Dean's arm, gently grasping it in one hand, dragging his nails down with the other, his hair hanging down in front of him but somehow not bothersome. He looked focused, like when he aimed a gun or tapped away on his computer for research. 

"I wouldn't complain. I have no right if this makes you feel like you can keep getting out of bed in the morning." Sam shrugged.

"The only person I could think of that would find a problem with what we're doing is you. So, why do you? Maybe I'm taking a stab in the dark, but if this satisfies you in ways sex can't, and without us…" Dean doesn't have to see Sam to know he made an impressive grossed out face. "Yeah... Maybe it isn't a good thing entirely. But if we're safe about it, it's less harmful than killing your liver or alcohol poisoning. What is it that makes this so close to monsters in your book? Is it me?"

Dean was stumped at that. He couldn't come up with a reason, other than what he thought was obvious, but his brain wasn't to full capacity either, so piss off. 

Apparently Sam caught on and he could practically feel his smirk. "One good reason, out loud, right now and we'll never have to do or mention it again."

There have been times where Dean wanted to wipe the shit eating grin off Sam's face. However, none as strong as right now.

"No takers?" Sam asked, serious but almost bordering on smug.

Dean's silence was almost painful, but he gave a lazy one shouldered shrug and a half assed scowl. 'Son of a bitch.'

Sam gave a bit of a chuckle. "No really, Dean. You don't have to hate yourself for everything." 

Dean wants to tell Sam the same thing. And he will when his mouth decides it wants to work again. 

Sam takes advantage of the silence. "So get this, I've thought a lot about it, since we've figured out what this is and how it works. You probably think it's wrong, right? But you just don't know how to tell either of us why. I get that. But this," He pauses to dig his nails in and twist for a vicious pinch before smoothing his palm over it to rub the pain in deeper, "isn't going to end up like drinking demon blood or starting the apocalypse. It's just meeting a need."

A few beats pass before Sam continues. "It's just me helping you, and keeping an eye out to make sure that it's not going to really hurt you." The unspoken "just let me help." Hung in the air. 

When Sam stops he bandages Dean's arm, just in case.

Dean doesn't even tense when the alcohol is applied, he's so far gone. He sighs a bit through his nose. Maybe if he can't find a "real reason", then it's not so bad. Or, that's what he'll tell himself to stave off guilt when he's sober.

Sam's back on his own bed, but he doesn't show any signs of letting this go. "Maybe we can do this once a week? That way there's no time for you to start getting ornery."

Dean gives him a hard glance. Ornery? He was ornery? Sam's too young to use that word. Dean's too young to have that word describe him. 

He sits up, still giving Sam the facial equivalent to "What the actual hell, Samuel?" As he shakes his head, to the once a week, and the use of a word he'd only ever known Bobby to use.

Sam seems to understand, and shrugs. "First word that came to me. But why not once a week?"

Dean holds up one finger, then two. Once every two weeks.

Sam pulls a thoughtful face at that. Dean can see the gears turning at a dangerous speed. "Why?"

Dean shrugged. Once a week felt too often. He'd honestly considered once a month for Sam's sake, but ultimately knew he'd get crabby between sessions and defeat the purpose.

Sam nodded at that, an idea alight in his eyes. "How about a trial period? Once a week first. But if you don't like it, we can go to every two weeks."

Dean wasn't stupid. And he knew that wasn't a slip of the tongue. This was his dorky younger brother trying to pull the wool over his eyes, and covering the suspicions with puppy eyes, the little sneak.

He folded in a minute flat, nodding his reluctant assent. It shouldn't be legal for a 6'4 man in his late twenties to be so affective at such a tactic. Yet here they were, with Dean forced to comply to a mock trial.

Once a week it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be happy to see if you all have any suggestions or ideas. I have plenty but am always happy to see new concepts.
> 
> If you're feeling particularly generous, maybe buy me a coffee? http://ko-fi.com/lencrestmere


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